Tales of the Greenwood
by j.Paynter
Summary: Robin Hood drabble - several one-shots inspired by oneliners from the show, or anything really that sets me off.
1. Do you take this man and this horse

Lady Duhrem twittered on and Marian felt a twinge in her lower back as it too joined the ranks of bodily appendages on revolt. They had been sitting here for simply _hours_ gossiping about absolutely _nothing _of significance. Didn't these women know that the taxes were at this very moment being renegotiated for the betterment of the shire?

"...Lady Locksley?" Marian was startled out of her internal dialogue and made an effort not to show her bad mood.

"I'm sorry Lady Fountbeof I was elsewhere just now."

The young girl gave a simpering smile. "I was saying that I haven't seen lace quite like yours (here she touched one delicate hand to the hem of her bodice to indicate her own flamboyant décor) for several years."

Marian felt a simmering frustration at this pettiness directed at her absent husband and the petulant hostess. "That's understandable, my'lady. This was my mother's gown."

"Oh...how quaint..."

"Of course," Marian cut in as the silence surrounding the slight grew awkward. "Fashion is quite overstated in Westminster and London than it is in our Northern shires, you will find. It is more fashionable here to be able to eat, to tend to the needs of the sick, as I'm sure you are aware." Her words were punctuated by her needle's sharp staccato into her fabric.

Lady Duhrem caught Marian's eye and smiled warmly. Marian felt a burst of kinship with the old crone, Lady Duhrem never liked these women meetings much either, when the men were away deciding business. But etiquette and caution dictated it. John was regent and there were protocols that must be followed for his gentry to remain - and Marian reminded herself, their position in Locksley was insecure at best.

Lady Fountbeof trilled a shrill laugh. "But of course, I did hear the stories from afar. Such fairytales of mythical heroism."

Ahh yes, the stories. Some of them myths of a legend that spoke of a lady and lord of the greenwood, others were rumours designed to discredit a woman's reputation and besmirch a man's honour. But neither told the truth of the tale; one that wasn't, at the same time, so pure nor so corrupted.

Marian stabbed her needle rather forcefully into the centre of her work and directed her gaze onto her hapless host. "Pray, what did you hear, Lady Fountbeof? I will endeavour to enlighten you."

Lady Fountbeof was silent for a moment, the sound of horses entering the courtyard below amplified around their little room. Marian knew that there were several unseemly questions that were running through the minds of all those present – but thankfully courtesy and etiquette protected her from those, for now.

"Is it true that you married an outlaw?"

Ah, the most tamest of the questions. She looked out the window and saw the men dismounting. Finally, she would be able to leave soon.

"Ah but of course," Marian said turning her bright smile on her bewildered host. "But truly, it was more, an outlaw married an outlaw."

There was a chuckle outside their window and Marian turned to see a pair of sparkling hazel eyes.

"That is so, my lady, much to my good fortune. Now, would you care to take this man and this horse as your route out of here?"

Marian laughed at her husband's exuberance in such company. But then shrugged it off, they were known hereabouts for their eccentric ways. So without further ado, she gathered her skirts in one hand and mounted the window sill. With the ladies behind her gasping in horror at her actions, Marian slipped from the second story window onto the horse behind her husband.

She arranged her skirts about her composedly ignoring the looks from the startled noblemen and women surrounding them. Robin turned toward her and raised an eyebrow.

"Having fun?"

"I will never be so happy as to see Sherwood Forest again and never leave it."

"It is good fortune than that we live nearby it."

Marian turned her head, she could hear that insufferable Lady Fountbeof whispering just above them. She curled an arm around her husband's warm waist and planted a kiss on his roughly stubbled cheek. He looked tired. Marian never worried about their public affection for each other - and truth be told she sometimes reveled in it - for a moment she almost pitied the insolent young Lady Fountbeof, because she would never have what they had.

"Come on mine outlaw," Marian whispered into his ear. "Let's go home."


	2. Move!

**"Move!" – from 2x09 'Get Carter'**

Marian smarts that Robin has had the gall to tie her up and leave her there while he fights. But as she fumes, contemplating unladylike violence on a certain outlaw, she watches the battle with interest. The interest lies mostly in Robin – the object of her less than stellar thoughts right now – and funnily enough, Much.

A casually yelled word, 'Move', and Robin immediately slides to the side. When the two are fighting back to back someone calls 'duck' and the next moment Robin has ducked and Much has swung his shield around to catch two arrows that were intended for Robin's neck.

'Left' and Robin nonchalantly swings around to cover Much's left while Much swings back to take a small breather. 'Right' and Much sidesteps as a rider comes galloping through.

The two work on the same mind stream that it's almost eerie to watch them fight. They are relaxed around each other, they trust each other completely and they know the other's mind so absolutely that they are in sync from the moment they step onto the battlefield.

For a moment Marian feels a pang of jealousy that she will never have that. Then she catches a glimpse of their faces. They are blank canvases – they show no fear, no anger, no mercy and no hope. They are blocked from the world. The other outlaw's faces are expressive enough – they grit their teeth in determination, they scream their defiance. But Robin and Much are expressionless dancers in this production. To them, this is work, this is what they have been conditioned for.

And Marian feels sorry, for her two warriors of the world.


	3. It would be simpler to kill them

** "It really would be simplier to kill them." "I know, but where would be the fun in that?"**

The war council was 'ad hoc'. A circle of standing men in the desert, the red sand already staining the white crusaders cloaks a bloody hue. A brown haired man kneeled over a hastily sketched map in the sand while a tall regal blonde and a swarthy dark man looked on.

"If he doesn't agree to the terms than what will we do?" Asked the kneeling man. "There are close to a hundred civilians down there."

"I cannot afford to look weak," the blonde man stated firmly. "Salahadin knows my terms, what happens next is up to him."

"We are at war, Robin." The dark man said. "Those 'civilians' would kill you given half the chance. We're killing them either way – we cannot afford to keep them fed and watered in addition to the army."

"So we're just going to kill them all – Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Forster! There are women and children down there!"

"Captain Locksley! Forster is correct, we are at war, it is simpler to kill them, and those are my orders." A galloping of hooves interrupted the conversation as the messenger loomed out of the heat haze surrounding the camp. "We will see what Salahadin has dictated." And with that he left with confident authority.

"So mass murder isn't not our fault anymore, your majesty?" Robin hissed under his breath.

That night there was a massacre. Salahadin had not agreed to the terms. Robin kneeled, breathing hard, with his cloak stained darkly in the soft moonlight. He could hear the screams of terror of the women, the crying of the children, the moans of the wounded and the lust for blood from his own men.

A child of no more than ten years lay prone in the sand before him, sightless eyes turned towards the night sky.

"Simpler to kill them," Robin whispered hoarsely as he reached over and gently closed the boy's eyes. He knew that this night would haunt him for as long as he lived. His conscious would never forgive him this. "It's never simple."

* * *

Years and a thousand miles away lying in a hay cart after an exhilarating cheat of death Carter's words send a chill down his spine and his mind right back to that massacre.

"It really would be simpler to kill them."

"I know...but where would be the fun in that?" Because there is no fun – and in the long run, it isn't as simple.


	4. I like to worry about you

"I like worrying about you"

The room lurched again, first one end then the other and Much's stomach clenched. He closed his eyes letting out a soft moan and wishing the damned room could stay still. A soft, damp cloth dabbed at the sweat on his brow. He opened his eyes in surprise to find his master's tired ones looking down at him, a frown drew his eyebrows together and he still looked too thin and pale after his fever.

"M...master, did I wake you?"

"Couldn't sleep." Came the curt reply, Much knew too. Robin had been sleeping fretfully even before the fever. His own conscious didn't give him much respite from the horrors of his waking moments. The ship lurched again and Much jerked his thoughts back from his master to his own rebelling stomach. He breathed in deeply through his nose, closing his eyes and beginning negotiations with his digestive system to not throw up again.

The cool cloth again dabbed at his face, wiping away the clammy sweat that had gathered. It smelled faintly of lilac and Much wondered where Robin had gotten it. It worked well too, the rotting hold and seawater abated a little and the smell put the image of Locksley village into his mind's eye.

"Go back to bed, master," Much mumbled. "I'm all right now."

Robin grunted and shifted his position but he didn't leave. "I'm all right Much, I like worrying about you." He said in wry amusement.

Much groaned again and rolled over clutching his stomach as the ship seemingly clapped against a wave. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

A hand started rubbing his back, large circles that his mother had used when he was upset or unwell and the cloth settled, cool against his temple. Robin's voice was a low pitched, gentle rumble.

"I could never enjoy your misery, my friend. Try to sleep, I would rather worry over you, than worry over everything that I have done and cannot change...those I could not save, those whom I killed, the one I left behind. No, I like worrying about you."


	5. Never forget the outlaws

**Never forget the outlaws**

The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Lady Kent took a deep breath – the air was fresh and cool, the smell of loam and pine floating in from the forest they had just passed, the underlying smell of livestock and the tinge of lavender. The sounds of a busy estate drifted in from the window and the laughter of small children at play. Her husband descended the carriage and looked around him curiously sending a careless hand back to ease her own descent.

When her own two feet were on the ground she looked around her in amazement. So this was Locksley. Vibrant would be one word to describe it. Washerwomen were gossiping cheerfully while going about their business, children were playing with a dog, peasant men were minding their sheep while conversing with their neighbours and there was generally an air of goodwill about the place.

The Baron of Kent had already strolled towards the manor and Mary hurried to catch up to her husband. Entering the shadow of the house she saw him conversing with a tall, elegant, dark haired beauty. This must be the Lady Locksley. She had of course heard all the rumours about her.

She was speaking to the Baron boldly, looking him in the eyes, with a strong confidant voice.

"...sorry, my lord husband seems to be slightly detained. Of course he remembers that you arranged to meet with him today, however other matters have claimed his immediate attention. If you should wait for him in his study he shall return shortly. I shall have some food and drink sent up to you while you wait."

Mary was astounded at how the Lady Locksley efficiently handled the Baron, who merely grunted and ascended the staircase clearly forgetting that he had brought his wife with him.

Suddenly uncertain at being in the presence of this strong woman, who rumour had it, had killed men alongside her husband in the battle against the Sheriff Vasey. Instead Mary cast her eyes around the room. Children's toys were scattered around messily.

"Do you have children, Lady Kent?" Lady Locksley asked, watching her.

"A boy and a girl, although the nursemaid takes care of them most of the time."

The Lady laughed a rich laugh and bent to pick up a wooden horse, carved with exquisite skill. "Our nursemaid can't keep track of my brood. I have two boys although sometimes it feels like three and they all seemed to have scarped at the moment."

Before Mary could comment on the Lady's odd turn of phrase they were distracted by a shriek. Mary jumped, but Lady Locksley merely moved to the doorway to watch with a wry smile. Curious Mary followed the Lady's eye line to see a young boy running across the grass towards the manor, his gasping for breath interspersed with shrieks of laughter. A horse burst out of the forest on his tail, a stocky rider bent low in the saddle focused on pursuit. The boy looked over his shoulder and let out another bout of laughter intent on beating his pursuers to the house. However, the horse was gaining rapidly. With the nimbleness of an experienced horseman the rider leaned to the side and as he rode past the young boy he scooped him up eliciting another shriek of laughter.

As the horse came closer Mary realised that it wasn't a stocky rider but two, a man and another young boy clinging to his belt and all three were laughing raucously. The horse came to a sweating, stamping stop before the two women and the three boys slid off. They were identical from the shock of windblown brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes down to the dirty faces and grass-stained clothes.

"Mamma, mamma, we've been slaying dragons," the younger boy informed Lady Locksley breathlessly.

"Is that so, Henry?" the Lady replied through a smile.

"We're knights," the older boy added, eager to back up his brother. "We went all the way to the valley, across fords filled with monsters and we gutted that dragon, we tore-"

"Edward," there was a censoring tone in the Lady's voice now.

"But we managed to liberate the treasure," the man said. He had let the children tell the tale while fiddling in the saddle bags. Now he turned around with an ornately carved box in his hands. His face held equal amounts mischief as his sons. It was hard for Mary to believe that this was the bloodthirsty outlaw of Sherwood Forest who would slit your throat as soon as he looked at you.

"And now we return it to the Lady of the Greenwood in more or less the same condition it was in," he was saying, all three boys bending low in overly courtly bows as he handed over the box.

"Oh really, more or less." Lady Locksley said, her voice full of laughter.

"More of less and less of more," Lord Locksley said in mock seriousness. The two boys giggled at his silly phrasing.

Mary stood on tiptoe in order to get a view of the Locksley's treasure over the Lady's shoulder. Lady Locksley undid the latch and with a pause of suspense opened the lid. Nestled inside was unfinished embroidery, slightly grubby.

"My heroes," the Lady gushed. Closing the lid and dropping to her knees to give the two boys a kiss. "You rescued my missing treasure. But as the dragon is slain I'll trust that it never goes wandering again." There was a slight undertone to that. A praise and a reprimand in one and both boys fidgeted with embarrassment.

"Now," the Lady said, getting to her feet and looking down at the muck that had rubbed off on her. "A bath, I think, before lunch."

"But mamma!" the boys wailed, scandalised.

"That's alright Marian," came Lord Locksley's deep voice. "While we defeated the dragon of the valley it cost us dearly and the water dragon is still at large."

"No!" the Lady exclaimed. "But surely there are a brave couple of knights who can defeat him."

"I don't know," he replied. "I was sore wounded in defence of the treasure and I know not of two brave knights who can face the water dragon."

"My wounded knight," the Lady gushed. "I have not thanked you." Taking a step forward she caught her husband's dirt smudged face in her hands and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

"Yuck," the boy called Edward said. "Alright, alright we'll go."

"We're a couple of brave knights," Henry called. "We'll defeat the water dragon and Locksley will be safe again."

"No, let's be outlaws, 'cause outlaws protect Locksley, right papa?" They darted up the stairs fighting an invisible monster with make-believe swords.

Mary turned away from the minor maelstrom that the two boys had created to find the Lord and Lady Locksley still locked in an embrace. He had slid his arms around her waist while hers were entwined around his neck, their foreheads touching. It was so casually intimate and Mary felt a pang of jealousy for her husband would never notice her like the Lord Locksley noticed his Lady.

"The Baron is waiting in your study," she was saying to him.

"Let him wait, any opinions?"

"I think trade with him will be beneficial but make sure that Locksley rights are concrete, I don't want us coming out of this deal worse for wear when there is the option for prosperity."

"So, boyish charm or outlaw glower?"

She swatted him as they broke the embrace. "Get going my lord outlaw, or there will be no meeting."

"Ahh, alas, my lady drives a hard bargain," Lord Locksley said turning his attention to Mary, sweeping her an extravagantly courtly bow with a complementary kiss on the hand. Lady Locksley merely rolled her eyes in exasperation.

There was a loud crash upstairs, a splash and a yell. "Ahuh dragon, that's right, never forget the outlaws!" Running feet accompanied by a door slamming shut. Both the Lord and Lady Locksley winced in unison.

"Robin," the Lady said warningly as her husband started up the staircase.

Turning around, the Lord continued up the stairs backwards shrugging his hands in resignation.

"I wish I could Marian, but I've got this meeting that my Lady wife _insists _I attend." He offered the women a cheeky grin then darted across the landing and disappeared behind a door.

Lady Locksley sighed in weary amusement, starting up the stairs herself to deal with the commotion.

"Some days I wonder why I said yes," Mary heard her grumble.

She disappeared towards the noise and Mary was left alone in the suddenly silent hall. She had come most curious to see the rumoured volatile Lady Marian who had married the bloodthirsty outlaw Robin Hood who had together deposed the Sheriff Vasey of Nottingham in devotion to an absent King and whom had spawned stories as far as France. Now, having met the characters of those stories she found them more complex than she could have imagined. No scorn of bad reputation followed the Lady Locksley, only the domestic bliss that she had entered into. And Mary envied this Lady Locksley just as much as she had envied the daring Maid Marian of the stories.


	6. Why such formalities

"**Why such formalities Robin, I thought we were friends." – Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine **

Queen Eleanor breathed deeply revelling in her freedom after so many years locked away under her husband's orders. The Greenwood never looked so welcoming. Her elegant bay moved smoothly beneath her, hooves crunching leaves as they ventured further into the silent forest and one of her dogs padding silently beside them.

Suddenly, from seemingly nowhere, a man dropped from a tree. Her horse pulled up short and her hand went to the short sword at her waist. But the man hadn't seen her.

He must have been a woodsman, Eleanor deduced, dressed in earthy colours to blend into the forest, a large longbow in his hands and a quiver at his hip. He had landed from the tree with all the grace and silence of a cat, his gaze fixed on something in the woods.

Slowly he strung an arrow. Her horse snorted loudly and the man swung around, the bow taught in readiness. Eleanor stiffened in defence. His face took on a look of astonished surprise.

"Ma'm, my apolo..." something back to his left reclaimed his attention and he swung back, his arrow released before he had stopped. There was a storm of flapping, a squawk, than silence. Her dog launched himself off into the woods towards the commotion, ignoring Eleanor's sharp word of reproof. He returned momentarily, a fat pheasant in his mouth and dropped the gift, lovingly at her horse's feet.

The woodsman merely laughed and came toward her. As he approach she was able to see the fine cut of his clothes, a noble than, but most likely from a rural shire. He was not a tall man, but he had a kind and charming face and he was smiling warmly at her now.

"I do apologise, ma'm, if I startled you. I was unaware I had an audience." He bent to pick up his game, then held it out to her. "A gift, ma'm, for the feast."

"Ahh yes, Richard's coronation," she said, accepting the gift. She smiled, he had no idea who she was.

"Yes, ma'm, it promises to be interesting." He said, turning to pat her dog where it drooled against his leg. The longbow was slung casually over one shoulder. "Shall I accompany you back, your majesty?"

Her title startled her, his informality had made her assume that he was ignorant of her station, but he had treated her as casually as he would any Lady. She appraised the young man before her and felt a pang of regret. Her eldest son was dead, her other two bickered continually. This man before her was unlike any of them, an independent man confident in his own self.

"Yes, I would like that very much..."

"Robin, Robin of Locksley."

"Very well, Robin. Tell me about yourself as we go, I have a feeling that we will be friends."


	7. You have people everywhere

"**You have people everywhere"**

"I hear Lord Thorington is suffering from gastritis."

Marian looked up in surprise to see a familiar boot swinging next to her head.

"Although, it could be a result of a certain woman _unintentionally_ walloping him in the nether-regions..."

"_Robin!_" Marian hissed mortified. She could see him smirking up there in the rafters. "How did you-"

"And let me say with an entire childhood of experience with said woman, I almost feel sorry for the man."

"How did you hear that?" She hissed, resisting the urge to grab his boot and give it a hefty tug. That would really be too immature.

"Haven't you heard Marian, I'm Robin Hood – I can walk through walls."

Then again, it couldn't really be that immature considering... She caught his foot and gave it an unladylike heave. Frustratingly enough he seemed to be expecting it and landed elegantly upright.

"My my Marian, have you ever thought about anger issues?"

"Will you stop spying on me?!" she hissed at his infuriatingly smug expression.

"Spy? Moi? Marian, please. I've been in the forest all day...and night...and all yesterday...and all yesternight. How could I possibly...?"

"Oh so you just happened to guess the exact shop that I would enter?"

"I impress even myself, sometimes."

He caught her hand before she could slap him and held her tight against him. "Now Marian," he whispered. "I know I said it before, and I know it sounds fairly arrogant, but I am Robin Hood and-"

"-you have people everywhere." Marian finished looking up at him coyly from under her eyelashes.

He grinned down at her. "Why yes I do." He said, finishing with a quick kiss. "And may I say Marian, I am very impressed with how you dealt with Lord Thorington."


End file.
